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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27661013">Sweet, Sweet Harmony</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaialux/pseuds/gaialux'>gaialux</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Great (TV 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>18th Century, F/M, Fluff, Historical Inaccuracy, Polyamorous Character, Slice of Life</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 22:03:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,053</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27661013</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaialux/pseuds/gaialux</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Grigor and Georgina return to their estate for a much needed break.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Background Georgina Dymov/Grigor Dymov/Peter III (The Great TV 2020), Georgina Dymov/Grigor Dymov</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Yuletide 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Sweet, Sweet Harmony</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irmelin/gifts">Irmelin</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Set after episode 3 of season 1.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Peter might not have said yes, but he also did not say no. He was grateful, Grigor knew, for the help and support he and Georgina had offered him. Especially now with Catherine in the palace. So they took his oldest carriage, one of the horses from the far stables, and set off toward the estate with one of their own coachmen sent down from the estate.</p><p>"This is nice," Georgina said, snuggling up against him. She smelt of flowers. Of spring sunshine as the snow thawed out around the palace. Not a speck of Peter's scent today, and for that Grigor was grateful.</p><p>"It is," Grigor said. The moment they were beyond the gates, the guards giving them a strange look but allowing them on their ways, the breeze felt sweeter. The sound of birds and the trot of horses hooves. They would make their estate by nightfall, all things ideal. This would be the perfect weekend. A chance for him and Georgina to be with each other.</p><p><em>I love you</em>, he thought. Then, unsure why he did not speak it immediately, said aloud, "I love you."</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>It was more beautiful than he remembered. The orange brick that took on almost a pink hue, alike to a sunrise, at the right angle. Georgina's face revealed a smile as she sat up straighter and inclined her head toward the window. Grigor only wishes for these moments in life, always. To see his wife so happy and carefree. She took his hand and looked back at him, smile so big Grigor could see the whites of her teeth and the hint of her tongue.</p><p>"It is still amazing, is it not?" she said.</p><p>"Yes, my love," he said. "It has not changed a bit."</p><p>That was not strictly true, for time and seasons stop for no man, but Peter had granted them money for employees to tend the grounds and maintain the estate itself. It was not overgrown with vines nor a crumbling ruin like so many of the estates surrounding them had been. Money, Grigor quickly learnt, was the solution to all things. He could only be grateful to Peter for lavishly supplying them with it.</p><p>The carriage drew up the cobblestone path and stopped outside the large double doors. It might not be as grand here as at the palace, but it was home. Their beautiful, comparatively cosy, home that they hadn't visited in months.</p><p>Grigor opened the carriage door before a footman could do it for him and stepped out. It even smelt different here. He reached out his hand and helped Georgina down the steps. She was wearing a red dress today, subdued compared to her usual outfit, but no less lovely. Much easier to travel in, too.</p><p>"Wonderful to be back," she said.</p><p>"Certainly."</p><p>He pointed out the stable to the coachman and footmen. Greeted his own singular guard who had remained employed while the two of them had been away. They were let into the main entrance which, before leaving, Grigor had always felt huge but now found bordering on stifling. <em>No</em>, he pressed. <em>Do not allow yourself to forget your roots</em>.</p><p>Georgina did not seem to have the same thoughts. Her eyes remained wide, excited, like a child being welcomed into the palace for the first time. Like Catherine looked, Grigor thought, the first time he saw her.</p><p>"Come,'" he said, trying to keep his voice quiet in the echoing of this room. He took his wife's hand and she let him lead her toward their bedroom.</p><p>The sheets had been changed, clean and fresh at Grigor's command. Luxuriously red that cost him a good deal of money but Peter was happy to throw it out there.</p><p>"Your wife makes me happy," he had said. "So allow me to do the same for her."</p><p>Peter had certainly delivered.</p><p>In the corner on their round, wooden table sat a bowl laden with fruit. Raspberries, strawberries, gooseberries; all spilling out.</p><p>"Thank you," Georgina said, turning around, her dress fanning out behind her. The red almost, <em>almost </em>matched that of the sheets. Grigor could only wish he had been more specific, more exact.</p><p>He went to the fruit bowl, gathered a handful of the plump red raspberries and brought them toward Georgina. Peter always preferred strawberries given the chance, ordering them in at the expense of other choices, but Grigor knew what Georgina liked best. What they both did.</p><p>They were plump, sweet, with a touch of crunch when one bit into the flesh. Grigor watched as Georgina ate them and a thought hit him, fast and unbidden: <em>What if we don't go back? </em></p><p>What if they stayed here? Holding out in the estate if they truly had to, until Peter became bored and found someone to replace them. But then that thought gave way to another, as unwanted as the first but so very true: <em>I do not want to be replaced.</em></p><p>It was not just the benefits of having an esteemed place in Peter's inner circle -- though indeed that remained a wonderful addition -- but it was Peter himself. His friendship, his dedication, even his strange yet amusing ways. Perhaps, more than anything, it was how happy he made this very woman standing before Grigor and indulging in raspberries.</p><p>"What are you thinking, husband?" She asked, swallowing a mouthful of food. Her teeth were stained pink; Grigor knew better than to point it out.</p><p>"Nothing much," Grigor said. His face broke into a smile, large and real. "Just how lucky we are to have this -- and each other."</p><p>Georgina pressed a hand to Grigor's cheek and he leaned into it. Into her feel, her scent, her entire presence. Nothing had changed since he started courting her almost ten years ago. If anything, the love was stronger. More definable.</p><p>"Just you," he said. "Always you."</p><p>He twisted his head and kissed her palm, feeling the lines and grooves on her skin. It didn't take long for them to make their way onto that bed, to sink into its warmth and comfort, to find themselves transported back to what was, in many ways, a simpler time.</p><p>"He does love us," Georgina said. Staring up into Grigor's eyes. Reading his soul, as she always could.</p><p>Grigor said, "I know," because he did.</p>
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